by Amy Vastine
Then there were the looks, suspicious in retrospect, that had passed between Shay and Jonah, and Shay and Ally, and among his sisters and Ally the entire afternoon. At one point, he’d seen Shay and Ally whispering and laughing outside like old friends. An idea, a theory, had started as a niggle and grown steadily, cold and insistent, the way ice creeps over a lake at winter’s first hard freeze.
Thursday evening, he and Ally were eating sandwiches at Ally’s house, and he was filling her in on the details of the next day’s rally when her phone chimed on the table between them. Shay’s name popped up on the screen. Ally picked it up, read the message, grinned and then typed out a quick response.
Watching this unfold, Tag felt all the misgivings and cold dread of preceding days reach critical mass.
“You and Shay are texting now?”
“Um, yeah. We’ve been…talking.”
And that was the moment he knew. It felt as if he was standing on that frozen lake, knowing that if he delved into this subject he might fall through, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He had to risk it in order to save his sister.
Tone level, he asked, “Ally, do you know what’s going on with Shay?”
Just as he’d hoped, he could see the question caught her off guard. And for the first time, he found her enigmatic expression disturbing rather than alluring.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she’s been acting like a different person. And I suspect you know why. Please, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. She openly disapproved of you and then, seemingly out of nowhere, last Sunday you two are like BFFs. I let it go then because I was just happy that she was happy and relieved to see you two getting along. But then Iris mentioned that you had lunch together and now you’re texting. But neither of you has said a word about it to me. What is going on?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why can’t you tell me?” he asked, fearing that no matter how she answered he already knew.
“You have to talk to Shay.”
Tag had experienced very few moments in his life where he both wanted and didn’t want to know certain information. The last time he could remember was years ago when Janie’s first husband, Cal, had died in a logging accident. A fierce and inexplicable need to hear the details had battled with the desire to tuck the suffering and hurt and his own grief away and never have to face them. But, as painful as it was, he’d quickly reached the conclusion that he had to know. You couldn’t solve a problem you didn’t fully understand or fight an enemy you couldn’t see. He’d wanted to help Janie and her boys then, just like he wanted to help his sister now.
“Ally, please don’t tell me you’ve been discussing my sister’s fertility issues with her.”
Her expression, or lack thereof, gave him his answer. The one he’d feared and the one he suddenly despised. Anger fired to life inside him. His lungs constricted so tightly it hurt to breathe.
Pressing a fist to his forehead, he focused on reining in his temper. “How could you do this?”
“Do what?”
Opening his eyes, he forced his gaze to meet hers and wished he hadn’t because he could clearly see the trepidation, the uncertainty in her expression.
“Tag?”
When he spoke, he could hear the disappointment in his voice, and he hoped she did, too. “Ally, it’s one thing for you to give Hannah or Cami your pep talks and…herbal potions. Those are harmless, and I accept that the placebo effect is powerful. And it’s fine to support Ginger’s decision to forgo treatment. That was her decision. It’s even fine for you to risk your job and possibly your career over beliefs that, frankly, I don’t think are worth it. But that’s your decision, and you’re the one who is going to have to accept those consequences. But this…this is about someone’s dreams, her deeply felt thoughts concerning her future. Shay wants a child more than anything in this world and what you’ve done is not only irresponsible, it’s downright cruel.”
Tag wouldn’t have guessed that Ally could look so devastated. He would have felt like the worst kind of a jerk if he wasn’t so utterly and completely heartsick himself. But this was about Shay. And Ally leading her to believe a baby was possible.
“Cruel? Tag, I would never do anything—”
“But it’s obvious that you already have.”
“Maybe. In a way.”
The idea of his sister getting her spirit crushed once again… He wanted a family, too. So much so that at times it left his insides tangled and raw and he could barely stand it. And poor Shay had done everything right, everything she could do and it still wasn’t enough. He could only imagine the longing, the despair and disappointment that she and Jonah lived with on a daily basis.
“I don’t…” Every single thing he could think of to say was mean and horrible, and he didn’t like himself very much for wanting to say them.
“But maybe what I have done is given her something really great. Tag, this placebo effect—as you refer to it—I think of as healing. The mind is so much more powerful than people give it credit for.”
“Maybe, but it can also be incredibly destructive. Can’t you see that?”
She seemed to be searching for words, and the thought crossed his mind that he should feel a sense of satisfaction at finally getting her to show what she was feeling. But, instead, he just felt hollow.
“When the mind and the body are in sync—”
“Stop.” One hand shot up as if he could snatch her words out of the air. “Please, enough of this. You have no idea what you’ve done here, do you?”
Shock and sadness and confusion danced in her eyes. Her voice was whisper soft, filled with hurt. “What is it you think I’ve done, exactly?”
A part of him wanted to take her in his arms and another part wanted to try and talk some more sense into her. Despite the doubts he now realized had never really dissipated, he’d been reassuring himself that she would use good judgment when practicing medicine. He’d seen her in action, told himself that she would allocate her beliefs appropriately. He’d made too much of the fact that Abe was a doctor and that she’d had a traditional education. She’d proven him wrong in the worst way imaginable. All those reservations he’d been tamping down now came rushing up like a geyser.
They were too far apart on this. Ally wanted him to understand her position, but she needed to understand his, too.
“Ally, you have no idea how… Shay has suffered so much. I’ve lost track of the number of miscarriages. They’ve been trying to adopt, and that isn’t working, either. It’s been one baby disappointment after another. If you have somehow given my sister false hope, I’m afraid of what it will do to her.”
“False hope? How can you—”
“How can you? is the point, Ally. How could you?” The anger in his voice, the tension in his body, was too much. “I don’t… I can’t handle this. I can’t do this. I need to get out of here.” And with those final words, he walked out of her house.
* * *
TAG DROVE AROUND, took a walk by the river and then sat in his pickup for a while staring at a tree. Then he headed to the hangar intending to take care of some paperwork because he couldn’t face the emptiness of his house. Since the first time he’d brought Ally there, he’d been harboring fantasies. Fantasies, he realized now, that had been pointless and possibly self-destructive. Pointless because they were never going to happen. Self-destructive in that they were only amplifying his disappointment and heartbreak.
He’d been fooling himself by thinking that their biggest obstacle was their age difference. He’d been so focused on it that he couldn’t see that the bigger—the huge, giant, dinosaur-sized—problem was in their fundamental belief systems. Ally thought she could save the world. Tag just wanted to do what he could to make it a better, safer place for the people he loved. He knew his limitations. Ally didn’t.
She wasn’t a miracle worker, and she needed to face that fact.
Iris’s car was in the lot. What was she doing here this late? Not in the mood to see anyone, he considered leaving, but movement at the window suggested his presence had been noticed.
“Hey,” she said when he came through the door. “I thought you were at Ally’s?”
“I was. I just needed to catch up on some stuff. What are you doing here?”
“Same. Trying to get a handle on all this business that is going to have to be shifted when your campaign begins. You’ve got quite an empire, brother. I didn’t realize.”
“Well, what else have I had to do all these years?” He busied himself with a stack of mail because Iris was giving him an assessing look.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
“Did you and Ally have a fight?”
How did she know these things? “Not exactly.” Tag couldn’t imagine Ally ever fighting.
“A disagreement?”
“Yes.”
“What about?”
“None of your business.”
“Ouch.” She added a chuckle. “Not used to seeing you so testy.”
“I’m not testy,” he snapped, falling into her trap, which only made her laugh again.
“You know,” she said, leaning back and throwing her sock-covered feet onto the desktop. “One thing that being away for so many years has given me is this weird objectivity and keen insight where my siblings are concerned. Or maybe I’ve always had it. I don’t know.”
“That’s interesting,” he muttered drily, hoping to give her the impression that it wasn’t.
“Yeah, what I’m saying here is that this good-guy act that you’re into doesn’t fly with me. Aren’t you exhausted?”
Yes, was his immediate gut reaction even though he wasn’t sure what she was referring to, exactly. “Iris, what in the world are you talking about?”
“Well, Tag, the way I see it is this. Almost everything you do in life, you do for someone other than yourself. Running here and there and fixing this and that.” Before he could respond, she held up a hand and began ticking items off finger by finger. “Helping. Fixing. Listening. Giving. Saving.” Out of fingers, she threw up both her hands. “Animal trapping. Even babysitting! When are you going to start doing what you want? When are you going to take care of you?”
He shrugged. “I like babysitting.”
“I know, and even though you’re trying to deflect like you always do, you’re making my point. You’d make such a great dad! Don’t you want to settle down and have a family of your own?”
He paused. She might as well have jabbed a hot poker into his chest, right into that perpetually raw spot. The way she was looking at him had him believing what she’d said about possessing that insight thing.
He jammed a frustrated hand into his hair. “It’s not that easy, Iris. People can’t just snap their fingers and have families. Look at Shay.”
“At least our sister is trying.”
With an uncharacteristic bite to his words, he said, “Yeah, well, I can’t. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m up to my eyeballs, here. I don’t have time to try even if I wanted to.”
Tag immediately felt guilty for taking out his frustration on her. She’d done nothing but try to help him. It was the fact that he was beyond help that had him cross. But mostly, it was the growing conclusion that he and Ally were never going to work. Well, they were never going to work long-term, anyway, but he’d hoped for a little more time.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just… I don’t even know what I’m doing…”
Removing her feet from the desk, his sister sat up straight in her chair. “You don’t know what you’re doing, or you don’t know why you’re doing it? If you—”
“Iris, I do know that I do not want to talk about this right now.”
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll let it go. For now.”
* * *
OVER THE COURSE of a restless, blanket-tangling night plagued with alternating bouts of bone-chilling despair, disappointment, confusion and dismay, with a few violent flurries of anger sprinkled throughout, a numbness finally seeped into Ally. She hadn’t heard from Tag, had no idea if he’d broken up with her or even if he’d ever speak to her again. She thought about calling in sick but knew sitting at home would only make her feel worse.
Shortly after arriving at work, she proved herself wrong. Because if she hadn’t come in, she never would have seen the email that was waiting for her. She was still staring at it, trying to decide how long this extended nightmare could possibly drag on, when Flynn came through the door, a large coffee in each hand.
“Hey, good morning. What time are you heading to the rally? You’re supposed to help Iris with the food, right? We should…” He paused to look her over. “Wow, you look terrible. What’s wrong?”
Lifting her hands helplessly, she said, “All I want to do is help, Flynn. That’s all I try to do. All the time. Most of the time. Okay, I honestly almost always try to do the right thing. But sometimes it’s so hard to know what the right thing is, isn’t it? Do you ever feel that way?”
“I’m a doctor, Ally. I feel that way every single day. But listen, love,” Flynn said, walking closer and handing her a coffee. “You sound funny. What are you talking about, specifically?”
Despite her angst, the gesture managed to produce a half smile. “Thank you for the coffee,” she said gratefully, taking the cup. In her tired, emotionally overwrought state, the gesture nearly brought her to tears. “And thank you for being my friend. You’re awesome.”
“You’re very welcome and very weird. You need to tell me what’s going on because you are freaking me out.”
“To start with, Dr. Boyd is trying to have me fired.” And Tag hates me for trying to help his sister, she added silently. “I got an email from the hospital board secretary. There’s a disciplinary hearing next week at which my presence is requested.”
“What?” Flynn frowned and gestured at the monitor. “May I?”
“Of course.”
He read the message over her shoulder. “He can’t do this.”
“Yes, he can. That’s the problem. He warned me. He and his scary spider fingers told me his reach was far and wide.”
Settling into the chair across from her desk, he said, “You have to fight.”
She pulled one shoulder up into a shrug. “Of course I’ll fight. I don’t think it will do a lot of good. But I’ll never stop fighting for what I believe in, Flynn. Even if it costs me everything. Even if it upsets people that I care about.”
“Uh-oh. I know you don’t care about upsetting Dr. Spider-Fingers. What else is going on here? Is this about Tag?”
The hot coffee scorched her mouth, and she was glad for it. It was a familiar pain, one she could identify and handle. “I think Tag and I are over.”
Flynn eyed her warily. “What do you mean you think? Did he break up with you?”
“He didn’t have to.”
“Ally, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THAT MORNING, THE day marking Tag’s first official campaign event, broke with early summer temperatures predicted to reach a high of only fifty-five degrees. A light cloud cover hid the blue of the sky and tempered the sun, but most attendees, especially the James campaign volunteers, were feeling fortunate the forecasted thundershowers appeared to have bypassed Rankins.
For anyone complaining about the jacket weather, a reminder of their good fortune loomed off to the northeast where a storm was boiling, the horizon so thick with angry gray clouds the mountains weren’t even visible. Hannah reported flakes were falling at Snowy Sky Resort.
The waterfront park in Rankins had long been a popular venue for community events. The last few yea
rs, under the guidance of Emily and the tourism bureau, the area had been expanded and transformed into a true gem. The brilliant landscaping included sidewalks and a boardwalk around a portion of the bay. Dotted here and there were unique benches and metal sculptures by local artist Kella Jakobs. The attractive timber-frame pavilion, large playground, basketball court, tennis courts, restrooms and the waterfront location ensured community use remained high.
Today, to encourage turnout of the possibly not quite so politically minded, Emily was providing entertainment. A miniconcert by Whiskey Cake, a popular country band from Anchorage, was slated to kick things off. Emmet Brummel, a comedian from Seattle, had been flown in to do a stand-up routine.
Tag’s friend Ryder was going to deliver a Memorial Day address. Senators Fincher and Marsh would give short speeches that concluded with Marsh introducing Tag, who would then wrap the event up with the official announcement of his candidacy.
The atmosphere Emily had created around the pavilion fueled the festive occasion. Pots of red, white and blue flowers decorated the tables, and matching baskets suspended from attractive metal hangers outlined the perimeter. A raffle ensured that some lucky partygoers would win a display to take home to their patios and porches.
Tag approached the small crowd gathered around two large grills, the smoky scent of Grizzly Quake brats drifting through the air. Bering, Jonah, Aidan, Gareth and Reagan were in charge of grilling. Hannah and her husband, Tate, were stringing a banner Reagan had made across the portable stage. Tag hoped Reagan’s superbiodegradable paper wouldn’t melt if it started raining.
“Weather is cooperating nicely,” Bering said.
“How could it not with your wife in charge?” Jonah asked wryly. “Not even Mother Nature would be brave enough to cross Emily when she’s in go-mode.”
“True,” Bering said, while laughter and agreement followed. “Although, I have to say, Hannah’s enthusiasm is getting a little scary, too.”
“Is Ally coming?” Gareth asked. “Kyla wanted to thank her for hooking her up with Dr. Ramsey.”